King Leopold I (1790-1865) and Queen Louise-Marie (1812-1850)

In his Vie de Louise d'Orléans, Reine des Belges (1851), Paul Roger describes the charitable works of the consort of Leopold I. She was well known for her generosity and kind heart from an early age. Her father, King Louis-Philippe, used to tell the story of how, while still Duc d'Orléans, he liked to visit, each morning, a beautiful peach-tree in the gardens of Neuilly. One day, Louise's little brother, the Duc de Nemours, accidentally knocked the finest peach off the tree. Terrified of his father's wrath, he confided to his sister what had happened. The princess comforted him tenderly, then took the blame upon herself. (Soon afterwards, the Duc de Nemours plucked up his courage and told his father the truth).


Many years later, as Queen of the Belgians, Louise's servants and entourage likewise knew her as a gentle and forgiving mistress. According to Roger, "her charity was inexhaustible, and she had a manner of obliging so ingenious, so delicate, that it doubled the worth of the benefit." (p. 49). During her reign, Flanders was stricken by famine and poverty ran rampant through Belgium. Louise's help was sought everywhere. The royal patroness of many philanthropic, religious and educational institutions, the Queen also multiplied her private gestures of charity. Her tenderness and generosity won her the reputation of a fairy godmother. In Brussels and in the provinces alike, when people heard a tale of woe, they would exclaim: "If only the Queen knew!" After her death, the cry became: "If only the Queen were still alive!" (p. 52).


Of course, I cannot list all Louise's benefactions here, but I wanted to share a few touching anecdotes mentioned by Roger. On one occasion, while she was visiting the Ardennes with King Leopold, a priest arrived and implored Louise's aid for an impoverished family: "I come to recommend to Your Majesty a family of honest farmers from Beauraing; the father has three sons and four daughters; two of the sons are married, the militia claims the third, the only support of an old, ailing father, and they are unable to pay for a replacement." "Monsieur le curé," said the Queen, "my resources are meagre at the moment; many misfortunes are brought to my attention, many unhappy people claim my assistance. Still, I have a little money in reserve here, perhaps it will be enough." Louise was able to give the priest two bills of 500 francs, enabling the family to pay for someone else to take the place of their third son in the militia (p. 50).


On another occasion, the Queen visited a model farm where Durham bulls were being raised. She overheard a poor peasant admiring the cattle and naïvely exclaiming: "Ah! If only I had one of those creatures, things would be go better at home...my wife and children wouldn't have to fear poverty any more!" Deeply moved, the Queen discreetly made some inquiries regarding the family in question. A few weeks later, the peasant's wish came doubly true...Not one, but two fine Durham cows arrived at his cottage, alleviating his family's plight (p. 51).


Yet another time, a church in a Brabant town was missing a bell large enough to summon the faithful from afar. The parish priest and the inhabitants were struggling to pool their resources to buy one, but in vain. The Queen, on a visit to the city, learned the unfortunate state of affairs. Quietly, she arranged for a suitable bell to be purchased and delivered to the town, much to the wonderment of the people, who christened it the "Louise-Marie" (pp. 50-51). While her husband was establishing his realm as a respected sovereign nation in Europe, Louise was inaugurating a tradition of royal humanitarian work which would be admirably maintained by future Belgian queens and princesses.

The death-bed of Leopold I was a sad one, with something puritanical and cold about it. In his death agony, he called: "Charlotte...Charlotte..." but no one knew whether he was calling to his daughter, the Empress of Mexico, or to that first Charlotte of Claremont and those enchanted years whose happy memories once more unfolded before his darkening eyes.
"Do you regret the sins you have committed, Sire?" asked his daughter-in-law. He sighed heavily, and answered: "Yes..."
"In the name of the love you bear for the Queen's memory," went on the wife of Leopold II, "will you not be converted to her religion so that you may meet her again in Heaven?"
"Nein..." he whispered.
Thus died the first King of the Belgians.

Brussels, December 10, 1865.
An immediate mourning is about to spread over Belgium.
The first of our kings, the founder of our national dynasty, his Majesty Leopold I, died this morning at the Palace of Laeken, at a quarter before twelve o'clock, surrounded by his august family, whose grief we will not attempt to portray.
History will tell what was the sovereign who, in the times of grave uncertainties, did not hesitate to respond to the wish of the nation, by coming to strengthen and fix its destinies ; who, during a reign of nearly thirty-five years, at an epoch so troubled as was ours, knew how to call to himself the love and veneration of the Belgian people, and to win the high esteem and respect of sovereign monarchs and peoples ; who, true to his solemn pledges, was minutely scrupulous in the observance of our constitutional compact, and in reward for this duty, so religiously fulfilled, and the services which he did not cease to render to the country, carries with him the gratitude of a whole nation united to bless his memory; who, finally, leaves to the august heir of the crown, with his great and noble example, a free, happy, and prosperous kingdom, which has acquired its place among the family of European nations.
Belgium will long weep the loss she has sustained ; she will ever preserve the remembrance of a King who was for her a devoted friend, a constant support; but her too just regrets will not cause her to forget her legitimate hopes.
The country does not die, and if on all sides is raised the doleful cry—
The King is dead! —
All Belgians, mastering their affliction, and rallying round the throne, will re-echo the shout
—Long live the King !

...Their three surviving offspring, Leopold II, Prince Philippe and Empress Carlota were all very different personalities. Leopold II had the intelligence and satirical eye of both parents. He possessed his father's political shrewdness, financial sense and ambition, albeit, unfortunately, without his tact and charm. Leopold II also had the Coburg weakness for the ladies, but was less discreet and caused more scandal than did Leopold I. A tireless colonial imperialist and builder of monuments, Leopold II may have inherited his insistence on grandeur partly from his mother, although he sadly lacked her counterbalancing humility and sweetness. Queen Louise complained of the Belgians' petty ways; her son, however much one may dislike many of his methods, undeniably strove, as he saw it, to make Belgium great.

By contrast, Leopold's brother Philippe had Louise's retiring manner, her love of home and family, her propriety and piety. Despite his admirable traits, however, I have to admit that I find him less interesting than his more dynamic brother and sister. It is Carlota whom I probably find to be the most appealing of the siblings. She seems to have united so many of the best qualities of the first King of the Belgians and his Queen; beauty, brilliance, grand aspirations, energy, determination and charisma, but also kindness, gentleness and charity. What a pity her promising life was so tragically marred.

In Louise reine des Belges: 1812-1850, Madeleine Lassère quotes (in French translation) a passage from Charlotte Bronte's satirical novel Villette (1853), describing (according to Lassère) King Leopold I and Queen Louise of the Belgians. Actually, Villette takes place in an imaginary country disparagingly called "Labassecour" ("The Farmyard"). Nonetheless, the story was inspired by Bronte's experiences of Belgium during the 1840's. In particular, this passage, describing a concert attended by the King and Queen of Labassecour, was based upon a gala performance in Brussels attended by Leopold and Louise. Although the author apparently detested the Belgians, describing them in a letter as "singularly cold, selfish, animal and inferior," the portrayal of the King and Queen is surprisingly sympathetic. The description of the King's sadness and the Queen's kindness does coincide with what we know of Leopold and Louise.

A signal was given, the doors rolled back, the assembly stood up, the orchestra burst out, and, to the welcome of a choral burst, enter the King, the Queen, the Court of Labassecour.Till then, I had never set eyes on living king or queen ; it may consequently be conjectured how I strained my powers of vision to take in these specimens of European royalty. By whomsoever majesty is beheld for the first time, there will always be experienced a vague surprise bordering on disappointment, that the same does not appear seated, en permanence, on a throne, bonneted with a crown, and furnished, as to the hand, with a sceptre. Looking out for a king and queen, and seeing only a middle-aged soldier and rather a young lady, I felt half cheated, half pleased.

Well do I recall that King—a man of fifty, a little bowed, a little gray ; there was no face in all that assembly which resembled his. I had never read, never been told anything of his nature or his habits : and at first the strong hieroglyphics graven as with iron stylet on his brow, round his eyes, beside his mouth, puzzled and baffled instinct. Ere long, however, if I did not know, at least I felt, the meaning of those characters written without hand. There sat a silent sufferer—a nervous, melancholy man...

Some might say it was the foreign crown pressing the King's brows which bent them to that peculiar and painful fold; some might quote the effects of early bereavement. Something there might be of both these, but these as embittered by that darkest foe of humanity—constitutional melancholy. The Queen, his wife, knew this : it seemed to me, the reflection of her husband's grief lay, a subduing shadow, on her own benignant face. A mild, thoughtful, graceful woman that princess seemed ; not beautiful, not at all like the woman of solid charms and marble feelings described a page or two since. Hers was a somewhat slender shape ; her features, though distinguished enough, were too suggestive of reigning dynasties and royal lines to give unqualified pleasure. The expression clothing that profile was agreeable in the present instance; but you could not avoid connecting it with remembered effigies, where similar lines appeared, under phase ignoble, feeble, or sensual, or cunning, as the case might be. The Queen's eye, however, was her own, and pity, goodness, sweet sympathy, blessed it with divinest light. She moved no sovereign, but a lady—kind, loving, elegant. Her little son... accompanied her : he leaned on his mother's knee, and, ever and anon, in the course of that evening, I saw her observant of the monarch at her side, conscious of his beclouded abstraction, and desirous to rouse him from it by drawing his attention to their son. She often bent her head to listen to the boy's remarks, and would then smilingly repeat them to his sire. The moody King started, listened, smiled, but invariably relapsed as soon as his good angel ceased speaking. Full mournful and significant was that spectacle !